The #1 Bestsellers Collection 2011

by Catherine Mann

  “My point is,” Adam said, pushing his hair back from his forehead with one hand, “I think we should set a time limit on this endeavor.”

  “Endeavor?”

  He paid no attention to the sarcasm coloring that single word. “If you’re not pregnant by the end of six months, then we end this. We each go our separate ways and—”

  She shook her head and blurted, “You get your land and I get what?”

  “I wasn’t finished.” He frowned a little, but continued. “If you’re not pregnant by the end of six months, then we end the marriage and the bargain. We both lose.”

  “You’d give up on the land you want so badly?” Was he really so anxious to get her out of his life? Was marriage to her really so hideous? God. Hadn’t she reached any part of him yet?

  Yes, she had. She knew she had. She could feel it in his touch every night. See it in the flash of need and desire in his eyes when he came to her bed. Why was he fighting this so valiantly? Why was he so determined to keep her at bay? To stave off any chance they might have had at happiness together?

  And why was she still here? How could she continue to love a man who so obviously wanted her gone?

  “I’ll find another way to get the land. Surely your father would change his mind eventually.” He shoved both hands into the back pockets of his jeans and shook his head. “It’s the only way, Gina. What would be the point in drawing this out? Making it harder on ourselves?”

  “Thanks very much,” she said.

  At last, he gave her a very brief smile. More of a twist of the lips even than a smile, really. And it was a sad statement of fact that Gina’s insides jumped when she saw it.

  “I like you, Gina. Always have. And frankly, I’d prefer to end this between us while we still like each other. If you’re not pregnant at the end of six months, neither one of us is going to be satisfied with this arrangement.”

  “You like me.”

  “I do.”

  She choked back a laugh. She loved. He liked. Big difference.

  But he was still talking, so she focused on Adam. “I think the only fair thing to do is cut our losses at the end of six months. That way, we both have a deadline. We know there’s an end in sight and we can plan around it.”

  “Right.” She nodded, swallowed hard and tried to keep the bubble of frustration she felt rising within from spewing out her mouth. “The master negotiator at work. Gotta have a plan. Good idea, Adam. Wouldn’t want to relax into this.”

  “Gina …”

  “No, no!” She held up both hands and started walking. She couldn’t stand still another minute anyway. Honestly she didn’t know who she’d rather kick more … Adam or herself. He was so damn stubborn and what was she? A glutton for punishment?

  She took a few steps away from him, thought better of it and spun around to walk right back. “Do you even see how crazy that is? No, of course you don’t. I’m not pregnant yet, so by putting a deadline on me, that’ll be sure to take the pressure off.” Gina threw her hands high then let them slap back down against her thighs. “Hey, maybe you should send a memo to my eggs? You know, something short and sweet like, Get in line to be fertilized. What’s the holdup?”

  He scowled at her. It had no effect of course, because if there was one thing Gina was used to, it was that scowl.

  “Sarcasm doesn’t really accomplish anything, does it?”

  “Didn’t know it was supposed to,” she countered. “It’s sort of an end all in itself.” Tipping her head back, she glared up at him. “Adam, don’t you get it? A deadline isn’t going to help anything. What we need is to be closer, not more focused on a damn ticking clock.”

  One dark eyebrow lifted. “As I recall, we’ve been damned close almost every night for the last couple of months.”

  “That is so male,” she said with a shake of her head. “Naturally you assume that having sex is being close.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No, it’s not!” She reached up and yanked her hair in pure frustration. “What is it with your gender?”

  “Just a minute …”

  “No. You wait a minute.” Blowing out a breath, she tried for calm and just barely managed it. “Adam, don’t you get it? We’re together, but not. We sleep together and then you ignore me during the day. You make love with me all night and then the next morning, you shut me out. How the hell are either one of us supposed to loosen up enough to make a baby?”

  His features went cold and stiff again. Typical.

  “In case you’ve forgotten, this isn’t a standard marriage.”

  She staggered back dramatically, slapped one hand to her chest and let her jaw drop. “Really? It’s not? Wow. That explains so much!”

  His eyes narrowed. “If you’re not willing to discuss this like a rational human being …”

  “You’ll what?” Gina asked, tapping the toe of her boot against the dust-covered concrete floor. “Hire someone to do my talking for me? Or no, wait. Better yet, you could hire someone to do your talking. Then you wouldn’t even have to look at me until it was time to come to bed and do your duty for the King ranch and dynasty.”

  He gritted his teeth and the muscle in his jaw twitched. “You think I treat lovemaking as a chore?”

  “Isn’t it for you?” she countered and immediately wished she hadn’t. Never ask a question if you don’t think you’ll like the answer. But too late now. Yes, he seemed to enjoy making love with her. But what if she was wrong about that? What if he really was doing only what he considered keeping up his end of the bargain? What if she hadn’t even reached him in bed? Didn’t she have to know? And wasn’t pushing him the only way to know for sure?

  “We made a deal,” she accused, hoping with everything she was that he would deny what she was thinking, “and you come to me every night to check sex off your to-do list.”

  “Now you’re not making any sense at all.” He snorted a dismissive laugh.

  “No? Then tell me you want me, Adam. Tell me that making love to me is more than a chore. More than just holding up your end of the bargain.” She stepped in close to him, felt the heat pouring off his body and reaching for hers. “Prove me wrong, Adam,” she taunted. “If I’m more than that to you, prove it to me.”

  Seconds ticked past as she stared into his eyes. Heat flared in those dark chocolate depths and Gina almost wondered if she’d pushed him too far.

  Then he grabbed her, yanked her flush against him and took her mouth with a fierce aggression that melted every bone in her body.

  Looked like she’d pushed him just far enough.

  Adam couldn’t breathe.

  The anger that had been choking him was drowning now in a molten sea of desire. He pulled her in close,

  wrapped both arms around her and gave himself up to the raging need within. She opened her mouth for him and his tongue delved into her heat. He tasted and took, grabbing as much of her as he could, as if his life depended on it.

  She was a contradiction in so many ways. Sweet, and yet not afraid to stand up for herself. Even to him. Sexy and warm and hot tempered, as well. She shook up his life. Brought chaos to order. Dragged strangers onto his property. Made him feel too much. Want too much.

  His hands fisted in her hair and he pulled her head back, bending her back as he took all she offered. All she promised. He felt her like a drug in his system. She filled every cell. Awoke every nerve.

  She was dangerous.

  At that thought, he pulled himself up from the spell he was under and broke the kiss like a man surfacing for one last gasp of air before he drowned. He released her and she lurched unsteadily until she found her footing. Then she lifted one hand to her mouth and raised her glassy eyes to his.

  Adam fought to bring air into straining lungs. Fought to ignore the throbbing in his groin, the near-frantic demand for release clamoring at him. When he finally felt as though he could speak again, he said only, “You’re not a chore, Gina. But you’re not permanent, either. You
can’t be.”

  Pain flickered in her eyes and he steeled himself against it. He wouldn’t be moved by concern for her. Would hold himself to the course he’d set when he embarked on the bargain that had shattered the peaceful solitude of his world.

  “Why, Adam?” Her voice was soft and sounded as bruised as her eyes. “Why are you so determined to feel nothing? You were married before. You loved Monica.”

  Ice flowed through his veins just as quickly as the fire had only moments before. “You don’t know anything about my marriage.”

  He hoped she would drop it, but of course, being Gina, she didn’t.

  “I know that she’s gone. I know that the pain you felt at losing your wife and son will never really go away.”

  “You know nothing.”

  “Then talk to me!” Her shout was loud enough to rattle the window glass in the old barn. “How can I know what you’re thinking if you won’t talk to me? Let me in, Adam.”

  Shaking his head, he fought for words, and couldn’t find any. He didn’t want her in. Didn’t want this to be anything more than the impersonal bargain they’d first begun. His past was just that. His. He didn’t make decisions based on guilt or pain or any other emotion that could cloud judgment, impair thought.

  Adam ran his life as he ran his portion of the King business. With calm, cool reason. Something Gina clearly was unaccustomed to.

  “The pictures of your family in the hall?” She looked up at him, a silent pleading in her golden eyes. “The photos all over the house? They’re of you and your brothers. Your parents. Cousins. But—”

  He knew what she was going to say and still swayed with the slap of her words.

  “There are no pictures of Monica and Jeremy anywhere. Why is that, Adam?”

  Steeling himself, he kept his voice steady, emotions hidden. “You’d prefer that I filled the house with photos? You think I want to look at pictures of my son and remember him dying? Does that sound like a good time to you, Gina? Because it sure as hell doesn’t to me.”

  “Of course not.” She grabbed his forearm with both hands and he felt the strength of her grip, the heat of her touch right down to his bones. “But how can you just shut it all out? How can you refuse to remember your own son?”

  He remembered, Adam thought as an instant image of Jeremy leaped up into his mind. Small, with blond hair like his mother and his father’s brown eyes. Smiling, always smiling, that’s how Adam remembered him. But that was private. Something he didn’t share.

  Slowly he peeled her hands off his arm and took a step back from her for good measure. “Just because I don’t surround myself with physical mementos doesn’t mean I could or would forget him. But I don’t run my life on memories, Gina. My past doesn’t infringe on my present. Or my future.” He forced himself to look at her and distance himself from the regret, the disappointment shining in her eyes. She’d known going into this that he wasn’t looking for love. If she’d allowed herself to hope for more, that wasn’t his fault, was it?

  When she didn’t speak, Adam continued. “We have a business arrangement, Gina. Nothing more. Don’t expect what I can’t give and we’ll both come out of this with what we want.”

  Eleven

  For days, Gina wrestled with that last conversation she’d had with Adam in the barn. She kept forcing herself to remember not only the fierce fire of his kiss, but the icy shards in his eyes.

  Had she been fooling herself for months? Had she really been holding on to a childish dream that had no basis in reality? Was it time to admit defeat and bundle her heart up before it could be shattered completely?

  She tugged on Shadow’s reins and urged the gentle Gypsy mare down a well-worn path to the King family cemetery. As she approached, storm clouds that had been crouched at the horizon all day suddenly moved forward, sweeping across the sky like an invading army.

  The temperature dropped in an instant and the sun’s light was obliterated. Grayness surrounded her and a cold wind kicked up, lifting her long braid off her shoulder, tossing it behind her back. Shadow danced uneasily beneath her as if the horse sensed the coming storm and wanted nothing more than to return to the warm comfort of the stable.

  But Gina was on a mission, and wasn’t going back to the house until she’d completed it. How had Adam cut his dead family so neatly out of his life? With surgical precision, he’d sliced off that part of his past and shuttered it away completely. What kind of man could do that?

  The last of summer was slipping away into fall. Soon, the trees guarding the old cemetery would be awash in brilliant golds and reds, their leaves shuddering in the wind and falling to the ground in a patchwork of color. Already, the wind was colder, the days were shorter.

  Shadow blew out a breath, shook her head and again tried to stray off the worn path. But Gina was determined to face the past Adam had locked away.

  The scrollwork in the iron trellis fence surrounding the cemetery looked time worn yet still elegant and strong. As if it had been built with love to last generations. Like the King family itself.

  Bougainvillea vines twisted through the metal work, their deep scarlet and pale lavender flowers fluttering in the wind. Headstones crowded the small cemetery that had stood in this place since the early eighteen hundreds. Some tipped drunkenly, the letters carved into their stone rubbed away by time and weather. The newer additions stood soldier straight, their stones still bright, the engraving deep and clear, hardly touched by wind and rain.

  Gina swung off of Shadow, tied the reins loosely to the iron fence and cautiously as a thief, opened the intricately worked gate. A squeal of metal on metal scraped at her nerves and the wind pushed at her, as if someone or something were warning her to turn back. To stay away from the home of the dead and to return to the living.

  She squinted into the wind as the first raindrops pelted her. Icy drops soaked into her shirt, snaked along her neck and down her back. The leaves on the trees rustled, sounding almost like a crowd of people whispering, wondering what she would do next.

  Walking carefully across the wet and getting-wetter grass, Gina eased around the older graves and made her way back to the last row, where brilliantly white granite tablets awaited her. Adam’s parents were buried side by side more than ten years ago, after the private plane they were piloting went down outside San Francisco. There were fresh flowers on their graves. Roses from the ranch garden.

  But Gina hadn’t come to see Adam’s parents. It was two other graves, silent and chill beneath the splattering raindrops that called to her.

  Monica Cullen King and Jeremy Adam King.

  There were flowers here, too. Roses for Monica, daisies for Jeremy. The now-steady rain made streaks across the surface of the granite and the brass nameplates affixed there. And the silence that reached for Gina nearly choked her. Here lay the family that Adam couldn’t forget and wouldn’t allow himself to remember. Here was the reason he was living only a half life. Here was the past that somehow offered him more than a future with her ever could.

  “How do I make him love me?” she asked, her gaze sliding from one of the stone tablets to the other. “How do I make him see that having a future doesn’t take away from the past?”

  There were no answers of course and if there had been, Gina would probably have run screaming from the cemetery. But somehow, she felt as though her questions were being heard. And understood.

  Going down on one knee in front of the twin graves, she felt the cold wet soak into the denim fabric as she smoothed the flat of her hand across the neatly tended grass and absently picked up fallen twigs to toss them aside. “I know he loved you. But I think he could love me, too.” She glanced at the stone bearing Jeremy’s name and the too-brief span of years that marked the life he’d led. Her eyes filled, remembering that sunshiny boy and the devastation she’d felt for Adam when Jeremy had died.

  “It’s not that I want him to forget you. Either of you. I only want …” Her words trailed off as she lifted her gaze
to the horizon where black clouds roiled.

  “I have been fooling myself, haven’t I?” she whispered finally, the wind throwing her words back in her face. “He won’t risk it again. Won’t risk loving when he’s already paid too high a price for it.”

  The rain thundered out of a sky gone black and dangerous, coming down in a torrent that soaked her to the skin. A fierce wind wrapped itself around her and cold settled in Gina’s bones. She knew the storm wasn’t the only reason though. It was the chill realization that what she’d longed for would never happen. It was time to surrender. She wouldn’t put herself through staying with a man in the hopes that he would one day love her.

  Time to throw away the diaphragm.

  Standing up slowly, she looked down at the graves of Adam’s family and whispered, “Look after him when I’m gone, okay?”

  Adam was in the barn saddling his own horse by the time Gina rode into the ranch yard, soaking wet and looking as miserable as a woman possibly could. He’d been getting ready to go out looking for her—which even he’d had to silently admit was practically useless. On a ranch the size of the King spread, it could have taken him days to find her. And still, he would have searched because not knowing where she was, if she was safe or maybe hurt or lost or God knew what else, was making him insane.

  Looking at her now, though, he was torn between relief and fury. Mindless of the pouring rain, he left the barn, stalked across the ranch yard and didn’t stop until he reached her side. He snatched her off the back of her mare and held her shoulders in a death grip while he looked down into her eyes and shouted, “Where the hell have you been? You’ve been gone for hours.”

  “Riding,” she said and pulled out of his grasp. She stumbled a little, caught her balance and looked around herself as if trying to remember where she was and how she’d gotten there. “I was riding. Storm came …”

  Her voice drifted off and whatever else she said was lost in the pummeling thunder of the falling rain and the slam of the wind. She looked down at herself as if surprised to find she was completely drenched. The heavens were still torn open, with rain coming down in thick sheets that made it almost impossible to see clearly more than a few feet.